


It'll Last Longer

by theprincessandtheking



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy Being an Asshole, Clarke Not Taking Shit, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Not Platonic At All Actually, Platonic Flirting, They don't bang here but we all know they will at some point, Unresolved Sexual Tension, bathing together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 09:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9998978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincessandtheking/pseuds/theprincessandtheking
Summary: “Why don’t you pull out your sketchbook, Princess?” he drawled, that infuriating smirk creeping onto his face. Clarke ignored the blush she knew was painted on her cheeks as he adjusted his stance and dramatically placed his hands on his hips. “If you’re really nice, I might even pose for you.”“That’s some big talk coming from the only one here who’s naked.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Season 1 era because I miss snarky Bellamy and Clarke taking no shit.

Bellamy Blake was a total ass.

That was all that reverberated through Clarke’s head as she fumed at the tree line next to the river. Yeah, he might have saved the lives of half of the kids at this camp. And maybe seeing how protective he had been of Charlotte had caused an odd tugging sensation in her chest that she didn’t care to evaluate too thoroughly. But you can’t hog an entire river for yourself if you’re not at least a little bit of a dick.

She’d just wanted to wash the dirt off from the foraging trip she’d taken that morning to search for medicinal herbs, already frustrated knowing that the plants would never be nearly as effective as the medicines she’d grown familiar with on the Ark. The day was hot—ungodly hot—and the dust she’d kicked up on the hike had clung to the sweat she’d worked up. After landing, she’d quickly learned that Earth was not the most conducive environment for hygiene, and she was still struggling to adjust to the feeling of never being as clean as she’d like to be.

Which is why she’d been royally pissed off to reach the bathing site only to find it occupied by the camp’s resident asshole.

It’s not like her irritation was unfounded. They had agreed that with a hundred horny teenagers running around, it was probably best to have designated bathing days for both genders. The older kids could do, as Bellamy liked to remind them, ‘whatever the hell they want,’ but in order to give some of the younger kids more privacy, they alternated.

Clarke had heaved a sigh of relief on her return to camp upon realizing it was the girls’ turn for the river.  She had quickly stuffed a slightly less soiled set of clothing under her arm and threw a scrap of fabric over her shoulder to dry off with and began the short walk to the river. She hadn’t been paying much attention when she got there, casually tossing the makeshift towel and clothing onto a nearby boulder, assuming the quiet splashing she had heard was from a girl who’d had the same idea she did. Peeling off her shirt, she rounded the corner of the rock. She kicked off her shoes as she worked her way out of the dingy white tank top that stuck to the dampness on her skin.

She was down to her bra and underwear, dirty clothes tossed carelessly to the side, before she realized the shoulders of the person in the water were much too broad to belong to any of the girls who had been on the dropship. It only took her a few seconds to identify the mess of dark, wet curls that clung to the nape of the boy’s neck.

He hadn’t seen her yet—she’d been quick to hide behind the boulder she’d appeared from, her face peering around the corner. She huffed a breath of annoyance as she considered her situation. Her clothing was strewn haphazardly along the banks of the slow-moving water, far enough out of reach that she’d have to abandon the covering of the boulder she now stood behind to retrieve them. She briefly considered going for the towel she had left on the top of the rock before realizing her then-strategic placement of the fabric, while great for easy access directly from the water, would require her to take a route that provided just as little cover as her other option.

She heard a soft splash, and her eyes snapped toward the movement in the water. Clarke released the breath that had caught in her throat upon seeing that Bellamy was still facing the opposite shore. As she continued to work through her options quickly, she found her gaze shifting to the young man’s graceful movements.

Her eyes skimmed over ridges and valleys molded in dark skin made glittering by water droplets catching sunlight, lingering on the ripples created by his movements that remind her of a flag caught in a soft breeze. Even from the shore, she could see the constellations of freckles that trailed across his shoulders, scattering down his back and fading into a tapered waist that met the surface of water just murky enough to hide what was beneath it.

A quiet choking noise slipped from her throat as she realized the direction her thoughts had taken. With alarm, she saw that her feet had taken steps of their own accord, leaving her just beyond the boulder’s shadow. She made a hurried decision to go for the shirt that now sat only a few feet away.

In her panic, she lost track of her clumsy footsteps, causing one foot to slip painfully across one of the jagged rocks along the bank of the river.

The expletive was out of Clarke’s mouth before she could stop it.

Bellamy started at the sound, turning sharply to find its source. She froze in the middle of the open air, arms reflexively crossing as she tried (and failed) to cover her ample chest. For a moment, they merely stared at each other, his eyes as wide as she guessed hers were as they flickered from his face to the hard lines of his stomach that were now within view. Bellamy didn’t miss it.

“Why don’t you pull out your sketchbook, Princess?” he drawled, that infuriating smirk creeping onto his face. Clarke ignored the blush she knew was painted on her cheeks as he adjusted his stance and dramatically placed his hands on his hips. “If you’re really nice, I might even pose for you.”

“That’s some big talk coming from the only one here who’s naked.”

His smirk widened and his eyes left hers, traveling down her body so quickly she’s not sure if she imagined it. If Clarke thought she couldn’t flush any harder than she already had, she was wrong. Yet she couldn’t ignore the way her heart pounded at the way he looked at her, a softness breaking through his sardonic expression.

“I’d call it a close contest,” he said, and she swore she could see the tips of his ears turn pink.

“Yes, well,” she said, annoyance seeping into her voice, “I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

He shook the water out of his hair, crystal drops spraying in all directions.

“Sorry about that,” he said, and he actually had the decency to look somewhat sheepish. “Monroe said no one was down here. The hunting trip got a little messy, and to be honest I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of spending the entire day covered in deer blood.”

Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Looks like we had the same idea, then.”

They stared at each other in a silent stand-off, each willing the other to leave so they could bathe in peace, Clarke with one eyebrow quirked and Bellamy tensing his jaw. After a few tense seconds, he crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, causing his shoulders to tense in a way that made Clarke’s stomach flip more than she’d like to admit.

“Well feel free to join,” he jibed. “No one’s stopping you.”

Clarke heard the challenge in his voice, and she knew that he didn’t expect her to oblige. He thought she’d blush a little harder, snatch her clothing off the rocks, and leave in a huff. For some reason, his assumption pissed Clarke off more than it probably should have. She was tired, she was filthy, and _fuck_ , it was miserably hot.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she steeled her resolve, her hands fumbling with the clasp on her threadbare bra. She didn’t meet his eyes as she slid the straps from her shoulders and hooked her fingers below the waistband of her underwear, pulling them slowly down the ivory skin of her legs.

She fixed her eyes on her feet as she stepped carefully over the sharp rocks that led to the edge of the water. As she waded in slowly, a small gasp falling from her lips cool water hit sensitive skin, she reminded herself that this was not the first time a male member of the hundred had seen her naked, and this probably wouldn’t be the last. After all, when you had a hundred teenagers in such confined quarters, privacy could be hard to come by sometimes.

Clarke told herself this was no different, ignoring the racing thuds in her chest and forcing her mannerisms to maintain their nonchalance. She’d be damned if she’d allow Bellamy Blake to know how nervous he made her. She forced herself to meet his eyes and was amused to find how wide they were, jaw ticking rapidly. She could feel the effort he exerted to keep his gaze fixed on her face, rather than the expanse of skin that trailed beneath it, and she struggled to suppress a smirk of her own.

“Problem?” she crooned innocently, tilting her head questioningly to one side, allowing her blonde curls to brush dangerously close to one of the breasts he was trying so hard to avoid staring at.

After a moment, Bellamy shook his head in disbelief and breathed out a low chuckle.

“Not a one, Princess,” he said, and the smile on his face betrayed his amusement.

Clarke shot him a proud grin before turning to begin scrubbing the grime from her skin. She had impressed him with her nerve, she could tell, and had seemed to make him more than a little bit uncomfortable. She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face for the few minutes they stood in the water together, and though they kept their distance from one another, Clarke could feel his eyes on her back more than once.

They didn’t speak for the remainder of their time together, both avoiding eye contact but sneaking glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking. A short while later, Bellamy offered an awkward goodbye before leaving the water.

Clarke definitely _didn’t_ check out the retreating form.

When she felt adequately clean, she made her way over to the boulder that jutted out over the water’s edge. When she reached for her towel, her hand met not the softness of fabric, but the warm solidity of stone. With a huff of frustration, she hoisted herself over the edge of the rock.

She found nothing but the set of clothing she had placed there earlier, the makeshift towel nowhere in sight.

Yes, Bellamy Blake was a _total_ ass.


End file.
